Goldilocks' Lost Files
by Sam Worth
Summary: What secrets could possible be held by an old mansion in the countryside of England? Maybe lost parts of the adventures of Goldilocks and his men. Collection of random missing scenes or tags to the season 1 episodes. In honor of the fandom rewatch.
1. Prologue

_A/N In honor of the fandom rewatch of the show. Thanks to Tuttle4077 for having the idea and organizing it. I won't have the time to watch the episodes on the time (or at all), but the few episodes I have caught here and there worked as inspiration. So, as my contribution to the fandom rewatch, I wrote a few missing or additional scenes. There won't be a tag or missing scene for all episodes._

_The following prologue establishes a surrounding story that connects the single oneshots. The first tag is in the next chapter._

_All chapters contain a finished and unrelated story, only the surrounding story is ongoing. Posting as the tags are finished or, in case I catch up with the rewatch, after the corresponding episode '__aired'__._

_Special thanks to __**Abracadebra**__ for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

* * *

**Goldilocks' Lost Files**

* * *

**Prologue**

_Near an unnamed village in English countryside, present day_

"So, you inherited the Wayward Mansion?" Matthew MacDonald, a young lawyer, looked above his shoulder while he fumbled with the keys and the lock.

The American couple stood behind him, their hands interlocked tightly. The front door alone was big enough to be misused as a garage entry.

"Kind of." Jill shrugged. With her free hand she played with her brown curls. They still didn't fall right in her opinion, failing to respond to her morning fight in front of the mirror. "I didn't even know that I had relatives in England. As far as I knew all of my family lived in or around Boston. Except my aunt who lives in Argentina."

"The call from your firm that we had inherited a mansion and all the other things came out of the blue," Jack agreed while he checked again his smartphone, verifying that his small company was still standing even without him present. His Texan drawl colored his words and made an inquiry about his heritage unnecessary.

Finally, MacDonald had found the right key, unlocked the door and pushed it open. Creaking, the old door slowly opened and gave way to an impressive foyer. Jill instantly looked up, trying to spot the chandelier she almost expected to see. "It's like a movie," she said as she spotted the low hanging chandelier, hidden beneath a gray sheet that once had been white. "The only thing missing is that somebody tells me that I am a long-lost princess."

Jack coughed in his hand. "Hey, you're my princess. Isn't that enough?"

Jill gave him a pointed look somewhere between amused and annoyed.

"As far as I know," MacDonald continued as he viewed the house with the same astonishment as Jack and Jill, "this mansion or the House Wayward had never any connection to the Royal Family. It was built in 1834 after the previous house had burnt down. And -" he broke off. "I apologize. You probably don't want to know the history of this house. You are more interested in how you can sell it, right?"

"Yes," Jack answered.

"No," Jill countered still staring at the walls and windows.

"What!" Jack demanded. "I thought we agreed that we sell everything and returned to the States."

Jill gave him a bright smile. "This house is so," she searched for the right word, "breathtakingly beautiful. I won't sell it before I have seen all of it." Outside, she spotted a blackbird. "And the garden. I need to see the garden."

MacDonald clenched his briefcase. He had already a list of interested buyers. The search for an heir for the estate had been conducted as a formality. Suddenly finding one had disrupted a lot of already made plans. "There are a lot of repairs necessary and -"

"How long has it been vacated?" Jill asked while her eyes were fixated on the ornaments on the ceiling, the stucco on the walls and the carvings on the top of the wooden panels at the wall. Everything was either dusty or even broken, and yet she could see in her mind how it had looked once. And she fell in love.

"A couple of years. It hasn't been used since the government had returned it in the sixties. The old Baron Wayward had lived in London or abroad, and since his stroke has not been able to take care of his estate. As far as we know, he had never been here."

"Why did the government need a mansion like this?" Jill asked while she sauntered through the halls. Doorway seemed too small a word to describe the way from the foyer to the dining hall.

"They didn't need it per se," MacDonald answered, his fingers still pressed against his briefcase, "but they used it as an archive."

Jack raised an eyebrow in curiosity. The house smelled old but not moldy, more dusty. "Archive?"

"The people in the village can probably tell you better stories," MacDonald said as he slowly relaxed his stance. "But as far as I know it was used in World War II as headquarter for a classified operation of MI5 or MI6." He chuckled. "I'm not sure if it's MI5 or MI6 or somebody else. It is after all classified. But the countryside was almost never bombed. It was safer out here than in London as long as you were able to established good communication."

"And after the war they used this mansion as archive?" Jill asked, her interested piked.

"No, they just didn't bother to move out and kept everything from their operation here. If you want to know more, you should talk to the people in the village." MacDonald straightened. "Now about the price -"

"We won't sell," Jill said.

"Yes, we will," Jack countered. With narrowed eyes, he stared at his wife.

Smiling tentatively, MacDonald backed out of the house. "I'll leave you to your discussion of the matter and see myself out. You have my number. The key is in the lock."

* * *

In the end, there was no discussion. As Jill pointed out, she was the heir and it was her decision.

"It's an old house in a foreign country that we don't need and can't use. But we could really use the money. What do you want with a house?" he demanded in a sharp voice that made Jill flinch.

"Exploring," Jill shot back. Then she turned away but not before Jack could see the wetness around her eyes at his outburst.

Both took a deep breath.

"All right," Jack started. "You want to keep the house. For how long? Do you want to live here? Because if that's the case, I'll head back home with the next flight."

"Let's call a truce," Jill proposed and turned back. "We both stay here for two weeks and explore the house and the area. And then we make a decision. We could call it our own private vacation. We hadn't one in years."

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. "A vacation?"

"Yes, with sleeping bags on the floor and horror stories told in the dark with only a flashlight."

"We don't have sleeping bags," Jack pointed out even as he was warming up to the idea.

Shrugging, Jill seemed unconcerned. "Then we'll improvise. Like we did in college. Do you remember our summer?" She smiled at him in a way only she could smile. He sighed, and she continued her pitch. "Either way it's going to be a cheap vacation in a beautiful house in a beautiful country. Maybe we even find some treasure. It could be our adventure. So, are you in?" She offered him a bright smile full of hope.

"Fine." Jack threw his hands in the air, giving up. "We'll take a vacation in an old mansion where the MI6 used to hide its secrets." If he said it like that, he suddenly recognized the potential in this endeavor.

* * *

_A/N Next up: Tag to S01E02 ("Hold That Tiger")– A Tiger Demands an Answer_


	2. A Tiger Demands An Answer

_A/N Tag to episode "Hold That Tiger" S01 E02_

_Special thanks to __**Abracadebra**__ for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

* * *

**A Tiger Demands an Answer**

* * *

_Jack grabbed the last bag out of their rented car. He would have to check how long they could keep it. At the airport he had only asked for two days, hoping that this was all the time they needed to sign the necessary papers._

_Hopefully, Jill would be cured of her infatuation in two weeks, or he would have to act on his threat. He wouldn't stay in England. No way._

_But if the folks around here were the same as in his home state, he had no doubt that Jill would be ready to go back in less than two weeks. She couldn't stand the curiosity of villagers, the closed-knit community, nosing into other people's business, as she called it. If not the house itself, then the area should be enough to -_

_Suddenly a loud scream pierced the light atmosphere._

_Jack dropped the bag and sprinted across the pavement and up the stairs into the house. "Jill!"_

_Silence greeted him. Looking around, he couldn't see his wife. If this house had hurt her, he would burn it down himself. No matter how desperately he needed the money._

_"Jill!" He repeated his call, near panic._

_"Here!" She replied._

_Following her voice, he hastened upstairs and found her in the first room to the right. "Jill!" _

_"Hi?" She sat on the floor, her legs half buried beneath an old cabinet. "A little help?" She pushed against the wood but couldn't get the leverage she needed to free herself._

_"Are you hurt?" He bent down to take a closer look. "What happened?"_

_She grinned. "I wanted to move the cabinet to make our bed beneath the window and with the back of the cabinet as our headboard." Red started to color her cheeks. "I guess I underestimated how hard it is to shove something across floorboards. It toppled over and I was trapped."_

_Jack laughed. "How did you manage that?" _

_Jill shrugged._

_Inspecting the work she had done with their bags already, Jack shook his head. "Only you would want to build a pillow castle for a vacation."_

_"Hey!" She hit him playfully in the arm. "This house is straight out of the dreams of my childhood. I'm entitled to."_

_"Are you hurt?" He repeated his question while he checked for the best way to raise the cabinet again._

_"Only my pride," she confessed._

_"Your pride can take the hit," Jack answered and lifted the cabinet until Jill could crawl out. With a loud bang, he dropped it._

_"Oh look," Jill said and pointed to something gray or maybe slightly bluish on the floor. She crawled on her knees toward her discovery. "These paper were hidden behind the cabinet," she said and started to inspect them._

_"That's normal. If you're not careful, files and papers can fall through small slits. Did you never move?" Jack was still out of breath. These old cabinets made out of solid wood were far heavier than he was used to._

_Jill shook her head. "We moved so often, I never had the time to collect enough things to push into a cupboard." She sounded distracted._

_"What kind of papers are these?" Jack went over and grabbed a few for himself. It looked like some kind of report written on a typewriter. The paper felt dirty and smelled old, but the ink looked well, hidden between the wall and cabinet, it hadn't been exposed to too much daylight._

_"Hmm," Jill said, clearly reading. "It's about a Marie Louise Monet and what she said about ..." She started to read out loud._

* * *

The old inn was only dimly lit. As Tiger entered the room, all conversation ceased immediately. It was the reaction a woman of the world dreamed of, but in this case it was a sign of mistrust based on her uniform and not a sign of affection.

She raised her head, staring down the hushed anger, until suddenly Dubois appeared through the curtain that separated the backrooms from the bar.

He eyed her and then sauntered over with a frown on his face. "I'm glad you're here," he said in a cold and hard voice. "The Germans have closed the bridge again."

Tiger nodded. That explained the mistrust. They hadn't expected her, assuming she either had been caught or had to hid for another few days. "Goldilocks' papers were good enough to get me across."

Dubois paused, holding out his hand.

As prompted, Tiger gave him the papers. "Is Monsieur Madeleine in Paris already?" She carefully tried a passphrase, trying to determine if she was too late.

"No, he's waiting for his Cosette," Dubois answered distractedly. Cosette, in this case, was the plans of the tiger tank.

Tiger glanced around. The outward hostility had given away to a cautious atmosphere. They hoped that she would be true and would bring good news, but they also had to be careful if one of their leaders having a direct line to London was still around. As far as Tiger knew, he had relatives that were part of Free France and therefore directly linked to London.

Dubois inspected the papers. "Impressive."

"I know. It's a really impressive operation they have." It was one of the most professional layouts she had ever visited. Mostly she met men and women out of their league, hiding in farmhouses or attics, and none of them had ever shown this level of expertise.

"Do you know Javert?"

"No," Tiger answered. It was an easy question, one that most German spies would get wrong if they had only learned about Hugo's _Les Miserables_ in school and preparation of the mission. As a Frenchwoman, she knew the character, but as a member of the Resistance, she knew to only affirm if she was compromised.

The corner of Dubois' mouth twitched into a small smile. Bright sunlight lightened up the room, as the door behind Tiger opened and a young man or better boy of maybe thirteen years appeared. "Everything's clear. Nobody followed her."

Breathing in sharply, she asked: "You had me followed?" She hadn't spotted anyone and that worried her.

"From the train station onward." Now, Dubois grinned brightly. "But don't worry, you won't lose your membership card. Using kids that can't be spotted is the privilege of the occupied."

He nodded to the boy who disappeared again; with him, the tension vanished. The atmosphere lightened and normal conversation returned.

Dubois stepped nearer. "Do you have something for us?"

"Oui. For Valjean." Monsieur Madeleine used both possible code names as it fitted. The desired side effect was to confuse the Germans and that worked perfectly.

Holding open the curtain, Tiger accepted the silent invitation and followed Dubois to the back rooms.

In an even more poorly lit room, Valjean waited by the table. His once-dark hair had already turned gray at the sides but that hadn't dimmed his strength or the bulk of his muscles. Like his namesake, he was a man of impressive strength.

"I have the plans of the tank," Tiger reported.

"Good. Good." He held his hand out. "London is already waiting. They send a plane tonight. We have to hurry before our window of opportunity is lost."

Tiger didn't move a muscle, after the train ride she had, she had enough practice. She allowed only a small grin on her face. That was her chance. "You knew that Goldilocks operated out of a POW camp. You knew that my being a woman would be trouble for them." It wasn't a question, it was a fact and the impatient sigh confirmed it. "So why did you send me?"

"They asked me to send a woman - and you volunteered." He shrugged. Dubois wisely chose to leave them alone and disappeared into the next room.

"But why did they ask you to send a woman?" Tiger demanded. "Do you have any idea how much my presence troubled the man?"

Valjean eyed her. It wasn't a look like the Germans at the bridge or the Frenchmen in the streets, it was calculating and evaluating.

She raised her head and kept still. That was her only option to answer the silent challenge.

Suddenly, he started to grin. "The papers are sewn into your clothes, right? That's the reason you cannot move or you'd give it away."

Tiger's shoulders dropped and she finally moved freely. The rustling of paper filled the room and confirmed Valjean's assumption. Now she wouldn't get an answer.

"As to your question," Valjean said, helping her to shrug out of her jacket, "why don't you ask him yourself."

"The Philosopher is here?" Surprised, Tiger stopped and glared at Valjean out of the corner of her eyes. The Philosopher was the unofficial nickname of one of their top operatives. Tiger didn't know how he came to the name but it did fit.

"Philosopher? I like the sound of it," a new voice said.

Tiger swirled around, almost tripping over her own feet in her state of undress.

"Pleased to meet you, Tiger," the man said and held out his hand. His short pepper hair framed a small face with equal small glasses on his nose.

Hesitantly, Tiger grabbed it. With Valjean and the Philosopher everything seemed to be scrutiny, and she always feared to fail, to do the one thing that disqualified her to help the Resistance, the one thing that would expel her from helping France in the only way that mattered.

But he simply shook her hand and then turned, leaving the doorway open. "Join me for dinner, after you have finished your mission."

Tiger shed her clothes in a hurry and pulled on the things Dubois had brought her. They were ill-fitting compared to the garments Hogan's men had tailored her. Then she started on the seams, ripping them open and pulling out the papers.

In her hurry, she cammed out with the knife and hit her thumb. "Ow!"

"Careful," Valjean admonished. "I don't want to lose an important member of the Resistance through an accident."

Relaxing, Tiger glanced to the man before looking down at the seams, his subtle compliment warming her heart.

Finally, they could pull the papers free. Collecting them, Tiger went to join the Philosopher at the table.

While he inspected the plans, Tiger eyed dinner. It was canned meat and bread. Unworthy of a French dinner, but beggars couldn't be choosers, and so she started to eat.

"Goldilocks," the Philosopher started, using only code names, "sits in the heart of Germany." He looked her in the eyes, his voice soft and with a well-bred English accent. "This offers us a perfect set-up and opportunity to expand their range of mission."

"Range of mission?" Tiger asked after swallowing. It might be war but she still had manners.

"Up until now, they only helped downed fliers, and we let them. But now that their tunnel system and their support network is stable and big enough, we could use them for more."

"You mean espionage?"

"And sabotage," the Philosopher confirmed.

"But why did you need to send a woman?"

"As long as they only helped fliers, the sex wasn't an issue, but in the world of espionage he has to deal with the opposite sex. We needed to know if he would be able to adjust his plans and keep up the discipline." He stared at her over the rim of his glasses.

Suddenly, Tiger got the implied question. It may not have been a normal POW camp but it was still an all-male camp where most of the men hadn't seen or been near a woman in a long time.

"We always like to think to be better, but we're only better if we actually are prepared for the possibility and try to prevent it." He put the plans of the tank into a small briefcase. "There is, after all, a war going on." He looked back to her. "And? Did Goldilocks master the challenge?"

"_Oui_," she shot back. "As did all of his men. They were delighted to see me," Tiger continued, knowing it was important what she had to say. While she had felt uncomfortable with the attention she never had to fear them and that was important. "But they were all gentlemen, from the lowest soldier up to the colonel." She caught herself in time before she could say his name. "It was big trouble for them, but they improvised as seen by my papers and the uniform they had sewn for me."

The Philosopher nodded. "Thank you. I'll add it to my report." He rose. "I have a plane to catch. You should rest for a few hours. Valjean may need you then."

Tiger nodded. "What are you going to tell London?" She asked as the man was about to leave the room.

"That they can try. Goldilocks is up to the challenge and I haven't heard anything that would contradict it." He gave her a short nod. Then he left, leaving Tiger behind with an unfinished dinner, more question than answers and the memory of one Colonel Hogan who would have to deal with far more than a surprise visit by a woman from now on.

He would master the challenge, Tiger had no doubt about it and maybe, just maybe, she would see him again. Espionage and sabotage was after all her area of operation.

* * *

_"Wow," Jack said into the silence after Jill had finished reading. "That sounded right out of novel. Maybe we shouldn't read it. What if it's classified material?"_

_"Come on," Jill said. "If it would be a real secret they would have taken these papers with them, wouldn't they?" She indicated the papers in his hands. "What do you have?" _

_Looking down, he read the first line. "It's about a German baroness. Apparently, she defected to Britain and -" he broke off as he couldn't read the next word. "But first I need more light if we want to read more."_

* * *

**Fin of **_A Tiger Demands An Answer_

* * *

_A/N Thank you for reading!_


	3. Lieutenant Smith - Burg

_A/N Thank you for your reviews! Tag to episode 3 "Kommandant Of The Year"  
_

_Special thanks to __**Abracadebra**__ for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

* * *

**Lieutenant Smith … Burg**

* * *

_Jack fetched the flashlights from the car and grabbed the dropped bag. Then he went back in and closed the door, locking it behind him._

_All the way, he thought furiously about the papers. He had a bad feeling that he was breaking the law. World War II may have ended seventy-five years ago, but he was sure that you still could go to jail for reading classified material._

_None of it would matter to Jill, who had found her adventure. He could only think of one thing - he needed to get rid of the papers. Tonight, after Jill fell asleep he would destroy them. Then nobody could prove anything and Jill couldn't continue to read and get them both in trouble._

_Nodding to himself, Jack sprinted up the stairs. Finally, he had a plan._

_He found Jill where he had expected her. Leaning over the papers and squinting her eyes trying to read despite the fading light._

_"And?"_

_"You have to read them. There are so exciting," Jill spoke and her voice sounded as excited as her animated face suggested. "Here for example -"_

_"Jill," Jack started trying to get his warning in again, but his wife just read over his protest._

_"It's a report from a lieutenant about a mission with somebody called Goldilocks. I think Goldilocks was a commander in Germany as he talks about tunnels and what happened in ..."_

* * *

"How it's going?" Hogan climbed down the last step of the ladder.

The two lieutenants jumped to their feet.

"At ease." Hogan waved them off. "No need to get so formal, if you hid beneath my camp," he said with a smile. "So? How do you like our cuisine and service?"

The two men stared at each other, unsure how to answer. "It's fine," Lieutenant Isaiah Smith answered finally with a careful expression on his face.

"Well," Hogan glanced down the tunnels, "you got lucky, our French cook is officially in the cooler and therefore has enough time to cook. Where is he by the way?"

"Corporal LeBeau," Lieutenant David Hockenburg said stiffly, "is with Doctor Schneider, discussing the finer points of his German uniform. Apparently, he wanted to change it?"

Hogan rubbed at his forehead and sighed as if this would be a great problem. "Yeah, LeBeau had said something about that. Tell him, if you see him," he said as if they had a normal conversation, "that he has to get back to the cooler. Our commandant of the year is almost over his loss of his medal and ready to release him from the cooler." He returned to the ladder. "LeBeau had better be in there, when we're coming, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, sir," Smith answered.

The colonel paused, his hands already on the ladder, left foot on the first step. "Where's your captain?"

"Patrolling the tunnels, sir."

"Patrolling? You commandos take your duty seriously. Make a report if you catch a mouse." Hogan smirked. "And what are you doing while he's patrolling?"

"We're taking shifts," Smith said and glanced to Hockenburg. "It's easier like this as we can't tell night from day down here."

"Yeah," Hogan tipped his finger against his chin, "we're working on a glass roof, trying to get some fresh air and sun down here. Maybe even a pool. Visit us in year again, and we'll have it." Then he turned somehow serious again. "How does Doctor Schneider take the darkness and the tight spaces?"

"He doesn't seem to mind. He has his plans and lights to study them. It's not different from what he does back in London," Smith said haltingly, still unsure about the whole situation and topic of conversation with Colonel Hogan.

"You're more worried about how to get him back, right?" Hogan let go of the ladder and crossed his arms.

"We were more concerned with parachuting in and finding you." Smith shifted in place. "But your dogs took care of it."

"Well," Hogan said, "after leveling the airfield in Hamburg, you certainly deserve an easy flight back. Give it a day or two, and we can get you out."

"Thank you, sir," Smith said.

"And drop the incessant sir," Hogan said, "we're in the field here and not back in London, Lieutenant Smith-" Hogan turned around and grinned. "-burg."

Smith sighed, while Hockenburg couldn't keep the smirk off his face. The name would stick. Together, the lieutenants waited until Hogan had disappeared back upstairs before searching for the French corporal.

"I can't wait to get back to London. Somehow it's less insane there," Smith said.

"That's rich coming from you. Last time you complained about the hours, the prices and women in London."

"All nothing compared to Goldilocks." After the second turn that resulted in another dead end, Smith sighed and pulled out his paper. "Or have you ever heard about a POW camp where you need to draw yourself a map to not get lost in the tunnels?"

"We should come back in a year, somehow I wouldn't be surprised if there's a sundeck," Hockenburg agreed.

Finally, after another turn, they heard raised voices, a mix between French, English and German.

"We got lucky that Schneider speaks German so well, or we would have been toast," Hockenburg said. "We really need to tell London that they can only send people over who speak German well enough."

Smith nodded. "They probably already know, or why do think we needed to escort a scientist? They could have taught us what to do or photograph. That's our job. It's because he speaks German, and we don't."

They rounded the last corner and finally found the French corporal as he was trying to fit a German uniform properly while his recipient was busy studying his photographs.

"Corporal LeBeau?"

"And then they -" The French corporal just kept talking.

"Corporal LeBeau?" Lieutenant Hockenburg tried again.

_"Oui?"_

"Colonel Hogan wants you back in the cooler. The commandant wants to release you," Smith said with a straight face. He would contemplate later the absurdity of that sentence.

"Finally!" LeBeau jumped up and dropped the German uniform. "First, he springs me by appealing to Klink's generosity in face of his medal and then the moment Klink lost his medal, it's back in the cooler for an escape attempt. _Boche!"_

Smith and Hockenburg stared at each other. Nobody back home would believe them even if they could tell them the truth.

* * *

"How's it going Lieutenant Smith ... Burg," Lieutenant Henry Whitefield asked with a smile while he clapped his friend on the shoulder. In the gloomy and fading light, they both used the free minute to smoke a cigarette.

Rolling his eyes, Lieutenant Smith snorted. "Does everybody know this part of the story?"

"Not everybody," Henry answered. "I think we have forgotten to tell it to Alan and his boys." Shaking his friend's shoulder, Henry continued. "Hey, what's with the dark face? You had a really successful mission. You shot up the Hamburg airfield and smuggled in and out an American scientist. A scientist!"

"If you say it like that." Smith shrugged. "I can't actually remember doing anything like that but if the result fit."

"What do you mean by that?"

Smith took another puff of his cigarette before he glanced at his friend. "This whole set-up over there? It's insane. I mean it's even crazier than -" He looked around the empty fields until his eyes settled on the mansion behind him. "It's even more insane that running an espionage and sabotage operation out of an old English mansion."

"If you say so."

"Listen," Smith said and it was now his turn to clap his friend on the shoulder. "If you ever get send over there to Goldilocks, be prepared for the unprepared. Seriously, don't act surprised if you get a German uniform, a paper with some German words on it you have to learn until next morning and a scroll and a medal you have to bring to a German POW camp."

"What?"

"And if you get lost on the way to Goldilocks, expect to be fetched by the guard dogs, who don't raise an alarm except the prisoners tell them to."

"You're kidding!"

"You have to see them in action to believe it."

"You're right, it doesn't sound quite right. Are you sure you were in Germany?"

"It's their arrogance and their ego that made this mission possible." Smith closed his eyes wishing the nicotine would be stronger. "But I fear it's in the water there because Goldilocks' ego isn't so bad either. If he doesn't watch it, he ends up making the same mistake as the commandant of the Germans."

"Who?"

"The American colonel who runs the show over there. He knows exactly how to play his commandant," Smith continued being careful not to use real names, "but being sure of yourself is apparently contagious, and he has caught it."

"Do you think that the mission is in danger?" Whitefield straightened.

Smith shrugged. "I doubt it as long as he can recover from any mistake."

Whitefield played with his cigarette.

"What?" Smith demanded as light rain started to fall.

"Do you think I need to warn them?" He indicated to the house behind him. Randomly there would be meetings but if he needed he could find somebody with a direct line to the commandment to share his concern.

"I don't think so. They should know who they installed there." Smith rose as the rain intensified. "They should know their colonel."

Whitefield nodded. But in his mind he was already writing the necessary paperwork. If he would be fast enough ...

* * *

_"I guess the lieutenant wasn't wrong after all," Jill continuing to stare at the paper in her hand._

_"Why?"_

_"There's a handwritten note on it - referring to another report. I can't really make out the letters but I think it reads - 'fixed by a bomb on a train'." (*)_

_"Now that does sound classified," Jack reiterated his point._

_Jill offered him a smile like a shark. "What about your baroness?"_

_Jack sighed but grabbed the page he had first discovered. "I'm tired," he tried to stall. "It has been a long day."_

_"Just this one, and then we're going to sleep, all right? Tomorrow I'm going to search the rest of the room, and the house, maybe we find even more lost papers." Jill started to settle down on her bags as Jack stared at the paper in front of him._

* * *

**Fin** of Lieutenant Smith ... Burg

* * *

_A/N There's an Easter egg for the first name of Lieutenant Smith, maybe you can spot it._

_(*) Happenings of the next episode ("__The Late Inspector General__") where Hogan does fall down but can recover as predicated by Smith._

__Thank you for reading! __

__2019-09-22 fixed typo, thank you baja-king!__


	4. Lili Was There

_A/N Thank you for your reviews!_

_Regarding the Easter egg: Victor French - who played the lieutenant - also played Mr. Edwards in "Little House on the Prairie" and Mr. Edwards first name is Isaiah. __  
_

_Special thanks to __**Abracadebra**__ for beta reading! Thank you very much! All remaining mistakes are my own._

* * *

**Lili Was There**

* * *

_Reading with a flashlight, Jack was reminded about his childhood. In the endless summers he could usually read without any light, even long after bedtime, but later he had discovered the joys of reading in the darkness with just a flashlight._

_"Our adventure," Jill commented and grinned at him with her wistful smile. It was as much a command as a prompt as a plea._

_"Fine. Fine," Jack grumbled and grabbed the page and started to read. "It looks like an interview. Baroness Lili von Schlichter was on the run from the Gestapo but Goldilocks helped her to escape." Jack blinked. "She had been flown to England and then ..."_

* * *

The room lacked none of the pleasantries a baroness was used to. Lili was old enough to have grown up with an emperor. She remembered times when her title had meant something and was raised to be worthy of it, like the noblewoman she was.

Then World War I had changed everything. Her title had lost its meaning, and she had stood in the same line as everybody else. But her mother had been proud and taught her to keep her head high, no matter what. She was, after all, a baroness.

This lesson was still present in her mind as Lili sat down, her head held high.

"Baroness von Schlichter, thank you for agreeing to this interview," the young British Intelligence Officer said.

"It's not agreement if you have no other option," Lili remarked in a calm voice. "But I am grateful to be alive, even if I exchanged one prison for another."

The young officer, Lieutenant Benjamin Davidson, had the grace to glance down briefly in embarrassment.

Offering him a small smile, Lili folded her hands in her lap. "What questions do you have?"

"Hmm," Davidson stuttered, "first, how did you escape from Germany?"

Lili arched an eyebrow. He should know this. The landing of their small aircraft had stirred enough attention. The whole village should know it.

"I was flown here by Lieutenant Harris, after Goldilocks had built a plane." Colonel Hogan had reiterated time and time again to never say his name. At first, it had been difficult, but then she had started to think of it as his title and it became easy to remember. Referring other people by their title was after all an ingrained habit.

"Yes, we all have seen it." Davidson acknowledged his strange question with a quick smile. "But how did you know to whom to turn?"

"By the time my family had freed me from the Gestapo, I didn't know anything anymore. But my father had still business dealings from before the war and gave me the address of his one of acquaintances. And then one by one I traveled along until I finally was told to hid in a veterinary's car and ended up with Goldilocks."

"Can you -"

"I don't remember all the stations. I was tired, only traveled by night and nobody introduced themselves. I had already learned how persuasive the Gestapo could be and was glad about everything I didn't know." Lili pressed her fingers into her palms to keep them from shaking. She used so much force, her fingertips turned white.

"All right," Davidson made some notes on his notepad, "after you arrived were you able to rest?"

Lili swallowed hard. "I could not see a difference between fearing for my life in tunnel beneath a POW camp in Germany or fearing for my life in an underground prison with the Gestapo." Carefully, she took a calming breath until she felt leveled again. "Goldilocks' hiding place may be safe and comfortable for men and women who are used such conditions but for me it was as terrifying as everything else had been." She looked down at the folded hands on her lap. She wore a simple dark brown skirt - borrowed clothes in a foreign country. "I fear I may have endangered his operation by my foolish desire to see the sun. But after so many days without seeing daylight, I needed to feel the sun's warmth on my face one more time. Running for your life for days on no end, it makes you believe that you won't survive after all. And, so I wanted to see the sun one last time before I died."

Davidson showed more compassion than Lili had expected. "So you left the tunnels?"

"Yes, but the German guard who caught me brought me to Colonel -," she broke off, "had brought me to Goldilocks and then left."

"The German guard, do you know his name?"

"Sergeant Hans Schultz."

Raising an eyebrow, Davidson paused in his writing. "The sergeant of the guard caught you and did nothing besides bringing you to Goldilocks?"

Apparently, despite his young appearance, this Lieutenant Davidson knew everything about Goldilocks' operation. "Yes. I suspect he was more worried about the commandant and Group Captain Crittendon."

Davidson nodded. "What can you tell me about the group captain? How did he perform?"

"Well," Lili said to gain time, "he was a gentleman with a great sense of duty. After I presented my case, he allowed Goldilocks enough time to ready the plane." Some other things were better be left unsaid.

Writing fast, Davidson put down on paper everything she had said. Why he didn't use a secretary like most officers would, Lili didn't know, but maybe it had something to do with the secrecy of the operation.

"Out of personal interest," the lieutenant glanced up from his work, "how did Goldilocks get the plane out of his tunnel? I don't think he had an elevator or an entrance big enough to roll it out?"

"Oh," Lili allowed herself a delighted smile. "That was some brilliant handicraft. They first put together the plane down in the tunnel, made all the necessary repairs and fixed the engine. But before they even started, they had measured which parts they would get out through their different entries and which ones they would need to make smaller. They either left the screws unattached or actually created new parts so all would fit."

She remembered after waking up after a particular bad nightmare, she had stumbled into the tunnel with the plane, desperately seeking human contact. Only Lieutenant Harris had been by, as everybody else had been needed in camp. The lieutenant hadn't been bothered by remaining underground for days, but he had seen her fear and started to explain the construction of the plane and how it was built in great detail. She wasn't able to recite anything of it, but his voice and talking had calmed her down.

"Maybe you should ask Lieutenant Harris. He had been part of it the whole time."

Davidson grinned. "We know. We already talked to him. He was worried the whole flight that his plane would fall apart mid-air."

Startled, Lili lost her smile. "That had been a possibility?"

Pressing his pen against the paper, Davidson hesitated just long enough to confirm Lili's fear. "Well, nothing happened. It did work, didn't it?" He stood up. "Thank you for your time. If we have additional questions -"

"I will be still here," Lili said and also rose. She turned her face to the window letting the sunlight touch her skin. It was still a prison but a better prison than the two before.

* * *

_"Had to be a terrible time back then," Jill said. "Losing everything and then flying to safety in a plane that could fall apart ..." she trailed off._

_"She survived. That's something," Jack answered and settled down for the night. After he turned off the flashlight, the room was only lit by the dim moonlight._

_"Why do you think didn't they take these pages?" Jill asked into the darkness._

_"Because they didn't know that they were hidden between the wall and the cabinet. We need to inform -" Jack paused. He had actually no idea, who he had to inform. But this lawyer, MacDonald should know it._

_"Maybe you're right," Jill said, "but first I want to read them all."_

_Jack just sighed. He really had no other option but to burn them. He just knew his Jill too well._

* * *

**Fin** of Lili Was There

* * *

_A/N Somehow London had to get the impression that Crittendon was a suitable replacement for Hogan. Why not Lili's courtesy?_

_Thank you for reading!_


End file.
